


the heart has two heads

by TolkienGirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abstract, Chuck Shurley is God, Gen, Manipulation, Non-Linear Narrative, fathers and sons, title from Siken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28880634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TolkienGirl/pseuds/TolkienGirl
Summary: A man had two sons, and was like God.Who is like God?
Relationships: Dean Winchester & John Winchester & Sam Winchester, God | Chuck Shurley & Lucifer & Michael, John Winchester/Mary Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	the heart has two heads

A man had two sons. He could not love them. Love was not the point of death, not unless you wanted to let it burn life down like a matchstick. Love was rooted in the far bank, before; the green pasture, before.

A man had two sons. He waited to see which would survive.

A man had a dream. This did not distinguish him from any other of his kind. Men on longships in the old world dreamed. Men dreamed through hundred-story glass, gazing at sunsets. Men dreamed that their wives weren't lost to them, weren't mysteries to them. Men dreamed about women and children by night, forgetting them by day.

A man had a dream. In it he held her down, kept her safe, didn't cower beneath the aureole of flames that she became.

_Mary, Mother of us All..._

A man had two sons. In his dreams, they weren't alone.

A man had two sons, and was like God.

_Who is like God?_

God had two sons. God made two more and two more, multiplying. Filling the earth with good things, building the mountains of plenty. The valleys were God's mirror. The prairies trembled with his breath.

God had two sons, and they were architectural. They were towers of light and grievance. He could have loved them.

In His own account, He did.

God's sons were absolute, in that they were unchanging. They had no fate: they were fate. They were light, sound, being, and eternity. 

They were designed to destroy each other. The pang of that was one of the only sensations belonging to a god: it was what made Him _Father_.

God had two sons and they were not enough for Him. God made two more, children of the first parents, and they were not enough for Him. He made the founders of Rome. He made the gods of the North. He made angels fit to build and blast whole cities of astral light. He made the wars. He made the valleys flood. He blotted out His face and revealed it again. He made one Son, as if that could resolve Him.

The world was small, and dull, and full of children.

God made more worlds. They were like and unlike, son and son.

_Who art in heaven..._

God made a man. 

God gave him two sons.

This was in one world, on one plot of land, and it only became something else because a small and dull darkness came and wounded _before_ so that it must always be _after_.

God watched. Took the body of a prophet and the pen of a poet, and watched.

He wanted love and death to live forever, in the blinking instant of mortal life.

He waited to see which would survive.


End file.
